February 04, 2013

Football and grandmother

WHO ARE YOU TO WRITE A BOOK ABOUT WOMEN?

The
woman sounded angry when she asked me that. Or maybe I should say seemed angry,
since it was in an email, in response to a blog I wrote that mentioned I was
working on a book called Why Women Rule: The Rise of the Female Warrior.

I had
to think about that question. Who was I to write a book about women? My first
answer I typed to her, would not be the right answer because it contained an
accidental obscenity, so I didn't send it. I used the backspace button to
delete it. Besides, everybody says that obscene stuff these days in response to
the slightest provocation, and I don't want to be like everybody else just to
look trendy.

Who am
I to write about women? Well! I had a mother. Is that good enough? Well, maybe
not. Everyone has had a mother. So I'm not exactly an outlier there.

I have
two sisters. I have three daughters. I have a wife. I have women clients. My
favorite philosopher/spiritual advisor is Byron Katie, a woman. And I cheer for
Jennifer Lawrence every time she picks up her bow and arrow in The Hunger Games.

Besides,
I have always rejected the excessively tribal claims that only women can write
about women, only blacks can write about blacks, only dwarves can write about
dwarves, and on and on. If we have too much more of that tribal isolation no
one will be bonding with anyone else ever again. It will just be islands of
isolation and tribal rage.

Oh, I
forgot one of my best qualifications: my grandmother was a woman. She was a
hero of mine, and a role model. She never hated anyone. When she didn't like
someone she would always say they were "insignificant." Sometimes she
would say, "He's the most insignificant man I know of!"

My
grandmother was not tribal, either. If the boys (her sons and grandson) were in
her living room watching a football game, she would poke her head out from the
kitchen and ask, "Who's the underdog?" We would shout back who the
underdog was in the game, and she would say, "That's who I want to
win."

She was
always for the underdog. But it made no sense to her tribal boys.

"Who's
the underdog?" she would say, as we watched our Arizona Wildcats play New
Mexico.

"New
Mexico!" we would shout.

"Then
I hope New Mexico wins," she would say.

"Why?"
We couldn't understand it. "They're playing Arizona!"

"They're
the underdog, that's why."

"But
Grandma! You live in Arizona, your children and grandchildren went to the
University of Arizona."

"That
doesn't matter. I hope New Mexico wins."

Her
loyalty was always to the underdog. Ours was to our own exclusive tribe. Her
heart was bigger. Her ego was smaller. Her anger (the ultimate result of tribal
loyalty) was almost non-existent.